There was something in his manner that suggested that he might have said more, but did not, as he left to make the telephone call to Mrs. Cheney.
He returned and nodded. “It is done,” he informed me. “If ye will gather yer things, Miss Montgomery, we will be on our way.”
I did not argue with Inspector Landry. There was nothing I could do tonight about what had happened. That was for tomorrow. I picked up my portmanteau and followed him from the police station.
Inspector Landry heldthe driver over as he escorted me up the steps to Number 39 Albany Street when we arrived. Then nodded a greeting to an older man, the building manager.
“Inspector,” the man replied. “Let me know if there is anything ye need.” He then returned to his own apartment as Inspector Landry accompanied me upstairs to apartment “A” on the second floor.
Elizabeth Cheney was not what I expected of someone forced to let out a room in order to survive, nor was she put off by the late hour as she greeted us warmly.
“Miss Montgomery,” she held my hand between both of hers perhaps a bit longer than necessary. They were warm as they wrapped around my cold one. Her dark gaze was warm as well.
“Och, Will,” she exclaimed, yet a soft smile remained as her hands tightened around mine. “The poor thing is exhausted.” She turned to me.
“You may call me Elizabeth.” She glanced past me with an odd expression and shook her head.
“The room is ready,” she continued. “There will be time for us to become acquainted later.”
With that she led me into a room off the small parlour.
“My own room is just across, if ye need anythin’. There is a pitcher of water on the table beside the bed, and a clean towel by the basin. The place is not so old,” she leaned in as if sharing something important.
“There is a water closet between the two rooms. It was a bit more for me rent, but I wasn’t about to share with someone who had four children and a cranky husband who takes his time with such things.
“Cheeky, I know. But there you have it, a little bit about meself.” She turned on the electric beside the door.
“If ye be needing anything before morning, there are biscuits in the kitchen that I laid out for ye.”
When I would have thanked her for providing the room, she shook her head.
“There will be time enough in the mornin’. There is an extra blanket in the chest if ye need it.” She reached out as she turned to leave and gently touched my cheek. Another smile, thoughtful this time before leaving.
“Oidhche mhath,” she said in the Gaelic, then paused. I sensed she would have said more, but she merely smiled again, then left and closed the door behind her.
I do not remember undressing, the simple act more by habit. I then turned off the electric and crawled into the bed.
As I drifted off to sleep, I heard the brief exchange of conversation, then silence from the parlour beyond. I curled into a tight ball as I held myself, and the tears for Dory finally came.
2
Idreamed about that room at Fleshmarket Close, the coldness of my friend’s cheek beneath my hand. And the unexpected kindness of a stranger.
When I wakened, it took a moment to remember where I was, as the grey light of morning slipped around the edges of the curtains covering the window.
Then a moment longer to gather my thoughts as I reached for the gown I had worn the day before and dressed. I washed my face and braided my hair. Then crossed the room and opened the door onto the parlour of the flat.
“Here ye are, Miss Montgomery. Good mornin’ to ye. I have coffee, hot from the stove. Or tea if ye prefer...? I usually make both.”
“Coffee, thank you.”
“Then join me at the table. I have biscuits and sliced ham for breakfast.”
My stomach growled when I would have told her there was no need. In truth, the last meal I’d had was at the cafe at a rail station on the trip from London.
“As I thought. Ye need food to begin the day. Now, sit at the table and I will bring some for the both of us.”
I remembered little about the place from the night before when I accompanied Inspector Landry to Elizabeth Cheney’s flat.
